Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Nero first met Orpheus, he had thought the man was Dante. He had zipped through the hell gate on Cavaliere and knocked a massive Chaos into the air, whooping all the while, jumping from demon to demon, knocking them up and throwing them and shearing them down with Cavaliere, attracting every demon towards the fight and refusing to touch the ground. Nero’s own fight had slowed as a result, and after the initial burst of anger—three fucking years he was gone—he merely sighed fondly and hacked down the rest of his demons, immediate questions fielded in favour of letting his uncle have fun before Nero was going to walk up to him and deck him again.

The horde of demons surrounded Dante, clambering over each other to get to him, but he merely leapt up off a burst of his Trickster magic high above them then flipped until he was looking up at the ground.

Dante stood in the sky. Nero, for the first time, finally noticed that the colour of the demonic magic he stood on was… purple. He squinted. His coat was purple, not the dirtied red Nero initially thought it was. Dante was crouched upside-down - no, he wasn’t crouched. He was ready.

The world paused, slipped, and Nero watched as the Yamato rained a thousand cuts down upon the horde of demons, slicing through the very fabric of space itself. Dante spun in the air, his twin’s sword singing in his grasp, the white flash of a feral grin visible even from this distance. All the questions Nero had—where was Vergil, what took them so long, what the hell is going on—was suddenly much, much more urgent.

Because something was so very wrong.

-

The man was not Dante, but when Nero finally got a closer look at him, he was also… not Vergil.

The thorned patterns of embroidery on his coat was familiar, but it was rolled up in a way Nero did not think his father (and that still felt weird to think) would ever do from what little he’d seen of him, and the colour was a midnight purple, neither one nor the other. His hair was the same colour as the rest of them, longer than Dante’s but swept back casually instead of hanging around his eyes. His face—

Nero knew, logically, that Dante and Vergil were identical. It wasn’t exactly the most noteworthy thing at the time though, especially when their distinct styling and demeanours and expressions differed so much that they didn’t look identical. So it was uncanny now to look at a face that was Dante, but also Vergil, but also neither.

Nero had to wonder if there was a third triplet he hadn’t been privy to.

The stranger’s name was Orpheus, he said, and the floor was lava.

“What,” Nero said.

Orpheus stood perched with incredible balance on a jutting spine refusing to disintegrate, Yamato held securely in one hand. Nero didn’t think Vergil was going to part with the sword he’d ripped out of Nero’s arm that easily, and watched this impossible being carefully. Orpheus said, “Got bored in the Underworld. I’m going to win.”

Nero was speechless, not in shock, but rather in exasperation. It took a moment for him to gather that Orpheus was serious, and to formulate a response. He said, “I guess you won. I’m on the floor right now.”

Muted surprise bloomed on Orpheus’ face, then he smirked. He took one step off the spine and landed right next to Nero, and when he straightened to his full height, Nero bit back an indignant swear. Bastard was a foot taller than him now, massive in terms of any human size.

(Bastard? Now? Something niggled at the back of his mind. Nero knew this man.)

Orpheus looked at him, and Nero had to do a double take when an expression of unbearable fondness. “Hey Nero,” he said, familiar. 

“... Dante?”

Orpheus’ expression immediately twisted in disdain. “Orpheus. Both Dante and Vergil, but I’m not either of them.”

Nero stared blankly.

“Like a fusion,” Orpheus said. Apparently this was not a new development, if his casual explanation was anything to go by.

“Right.”

Orpheus looked him up and down. “So. How are you?”

Nero socked him in the face.

-

Nico stared up at the towering half-devil with her jaw nearly on the ground. Orpheus tilted his head curiously down at her.

“Nico, this is Dante and Vergil,” Nero introduced, weirdly enough. “Dante and Vergil, you already know Nico.”

“It’s Orpheus,” he corrected, shooting a look at Nero, who just rolled his eyes.

“No way,” Nico said in awe. “Uh. H-hey. Hello. How in the hell did that happen?”

Nero scooted over to the phone on the van’s table while Nico distracted Orpheus. Orpheus himself was still standing outside, too tall to comfortably step in either.

“Devil Sword Dante,” Orpheus said simply while Nero dialled. “Where are we?”

“Devil May Cry,” Lady’s voice filtered through, and Orpheus’s head canted in his direction, but he did not take his eyes off Nico, who was still enthusiastically talking and asking questions.

Nero opened his mouth, then paused. Then said, “Hey Lady, can I talk to Trish?”

Lady made a noise. “Why, I’m not enough for you, little guy?” she teased, deliberately mean in her tone. Nero coughed.

“Well, you can listen too, but Trish probably knows more about… this.”

“Ah, devil business.” There was a moment of silence, a little shuffling over the line, and Trish greeted him.

“Hi Trish - uh, weird question but - can devils… fuse?”

A pause. “If you mean into a monstrous amalgamation, then sure, but not on their own and not usually willingly. Did you see some?”

“No, I mean - can two devils come together and become an entirely different person - devil.”

The silence this time was even more suspicious. “... No. What’s going on?”

An explosion sounded outside the van and Nero through the door to see Orpheus swapping Kalina Ann II out for Ebony and Ivory to show to Nico. Nero winced, because Nico already had a frankly embarrassing crush on Dante, and he could feel it getting worse. Nero said, “Dante and Vergil are back. Kind of.”

Even more silence. “So by fuse, you mean—”

“Yeah,” Nero said. Orpheus felt his stare and turned to look at him. “I mean fuse.”

-

“Well,” Trish said, “That’s definitely Dante.”

Orpheus had insisted they stop to get pizza before heading back to Dante’s Devil May Cry office, and the volume he’d bought was actually disgusting. Nero watched as the man folded an entire pie of pizza and brought it to his mouth to take a truly nasty bite out of it, jaw a little too unhinged, teeth a little too sharp.

“Except for the olives,” Nero remarked.

Orpheus seemed content to ignore the peanut gallery as he ate on the couch, and that only seemed to incense Lady further, who stepped up to stare down at him. She said, “Three years. Three years worth of rent, of utility bills, and keeping this shitshow running. I’m charging interest.”

Orpheus blinked up at her. He seemed to think for a moment. “I’m not Dante.”

Lady narrowed her eyes. “If you think I’m letting you off just because you’re ‘not him’, you’re delusional.”

Orpheus looked at her. Shrugged. Went back to eating. Lady’s expression twitched. She walked over to join them with a muttered, “One day I’ll put a bullet through his skull. Again.”

“Well, that icy personality is definitely Vergil’s,” Nero said.

Trish looked on curiously. “No. It seems it’s less their personality combined and more an entirely different one was created.”

He was certainly different from V.

Lady shuddered. “Can’t imagine sharing a body with Dante’s worse half.”

“How do we get them back to normal?” Nero asked. “Is it permanent?”

Orpheus said, “It’s as permanent as anything.”

Something twisted inside Nero as he digested that. Something like loss, maybe. There was a stranger sitting on Dante's couch and saying he was gone forever. That there was no chance Nero was ever going to get to know the father he never knew.

“No,” Trish said again. “If Yamato can split a soul in half, then it could split two souls again, couldn’t it?”

Orpheus wiped the grease on his hands off on the paper towels on the table, a gesture very unlike Dante who would have just licked his fingers off. He put the Yamato over his knees and said, “It’s always been one soul, Trish.”

Trish’s eyes widened minutely in understanding before her expression became mild again. “Ah. I see.”

Nico looked between the two of them. “What? What do you mean?”

“It means,” Orpheus said, and Nero smarted a little that he’d been answering Nico’s every question since they met, “Dante and Vergil were already two halves of a person. I’m the logical conclusion.”

That was - wrong.

Lady walked out of the office without another word.

-

Nero came back from Fortuna two weeks later, a strange grief sitting in his rib bone. Orpheus was still here.

“Are you going to be here forever?”

Orpheus looked up. He had been reading a book behind Dante’s desk. A book. His legs weren’t even on the desk.

Orpheus said, “Where else would I be?”

“I mean - you. Orpheus. Are you going to Orpheus forever?”

Nero didn’t have the Yamato. It’s not like anyone could force that sword from Orpheus and split them down the middle without Orpheus actually wanting it.

Orpheus made a face. It was annoyance. He said, “Are you going to be Nero forever?”

The thing was, Nero had believed Dante would come back. Even when he never promised it, Dante was stubborn and impossible and unkillable. It was why he’d still believed he would pull through even when it seemed Urizen had killed him for good, but it was also why the idea that he could die at anytime never really occurred to him—and why, when it finally did sink in that Dante could just be - gone for good, Nero was shocked by how much he desperately did not want Dante gone.

Years of Dante stubbornly keeping him at a distance did not erase the lonely kid in him that just wanted a family.

The three years of radio silence gave Nero enough time to stop being angry and realise that with the confession of a tangible familial connection, Dante couldn’t keep running anymore.

And that damned book from his father was an overt promise of some connection, if nothing else.

Nero couldn’t argue for Dante’s promise to come back, because he didn’t. Dante was good with words, even better when it came to leaving, so Nero said, “Vergil said ‘next time’. There can’t be a rematch if there’s no Vergil.”

Orpheus looked to the side, hesitating on something. He sighed forcefully, snapping the book shut in a motion that was so V. He said, “Look, Nero. You need to understand - no, I want you to understand. I really do. But you can’t understand because you’ll never know what it’s like.”

“Then make me,” Nero stressed.

Orpheus put his book down, leaning forward on the desk. He said, “You’re a little kid. Imagine you’re a little kid.”

Nero hesitated. “Okay. I’m imagining.”

“Imagine you’ve never been alone in your entire life—you weren’t even born alone. Imagine you’re a little kid and then - imagine not.”

“You’re not being very—”

Orpheus made a noise like frustration, seemingly aware he wasn’t articulating himself well. “You’re not just a twin - you’re a twin and suddenly you’re not. You’re a twin without a twin and you’ll never understand each other again and - and then you’re half yourself for three decades and a half. And then suddenly you are.”

Nero took a deep breath. 

“See.” Orpheus looked away again. “You can’t understand.”

They stay there in silence for a minute, Nero stewing in his thoughts. Nero said, “Tell me what it’s like being Orpheus.”

Orpheus grinned, then. “I like being Orpheus.”

Nero smiled wearily. He’d never seen Dante’s face that happy before.

Orpheus said, “It’s like love.”

-

You are two people who will never understand each other. At least, there are no words that can make you understand each other. That is why you fight.

You are two people, the only two of you who will ever exist. That is why you fight, because no one else will understand the bloodlust, the infernal instincts warring within. Your sister blades kiss, your strikes and blocks mirrors, grins identical, so in tune with each other that in the heat of battle when blood mixes and muscles give like antagonist systems, it is hard to tell when one of you begins and the other ends. You fight because it is your only memory of each other. Your only connection beyond flesh of your flesh.

You are two people who will never see eye to eye, who are bound by the unspoken laws of siblinghood to never say a single sincere thing to the other’s face. This is why you fight, because when you run your sword through the other, you pull it back out. When you rip the other’s throat open, you do not go for the kill. When you break the other beyond broken, you sit there and make sure the other heals safely. And when the two of you are surrounded, you are suddenly extensions of each other, and wielding Yamato has Devil Sword Dante chasing the tails, Sin Devil Trigger mirrors of each other, striking with the surety that the other will make way, a dance so familiar it is like you are born into the steps.

You are two people, standing on opposite sides of the chasm of time. Your words get caught in your throat. You are afraid.

You cannot say I love you. You cannot even think it. You can only think - I want to play. I just wanted to play with my brother again. Because who else would you play with, if not him?

And then suddenly you are one person. And all the love and adoration you have kept inside, unspoken, unthinking, all the grief and pain you cannot tell him is shared and you can understand yourself better than you ever have. You are the most powerful thing on this plane, on any plane, and you tear through the underworld with vigour, tear your way to your mother’s murderer and rip him apart with your bare teeth. And it is exhilarating.

Your name is Orpheus. You wonder why you would’ve wanted to be anything else.

-

“That’s one good thing at least,” Nero said. “You guys can finally communicate without killing each other.”

Orpheus rolled his eyes. “A little bloodsport is healthy every now and then.”

Nero was sceptical. He said, “I guess you guys - uh - they loved each other a lot, huh. I would’ve thought they’d never get along in one body.”

“I’m not either of them,” Orpheus reiterated for the thousandth time. He leaned back in Dante’s chair. “But it’s - good. It’s so good. I never have to be afraid of being left behind ever again.”

Nero wondered, for a moment, if that was Dante or Vergil. He said, “What about your friends? I mean Dante’s friends. You’re not him, and now he’s just… gone.”

Orpheus shrugged. “Not really my problem.”

That was something that unnerved Nero ever since they met. Orpheus seemed so detached from everything. He was, strangely enough, even more goofy than Dante at times, but it all seemed so… distant. He didn’t care about the jokes he made, the remarks, the people—for all that he said he was a full person, he seemed more half one than Dante and Vergil ever were.

That seemed unfair to him though, the moment Nero thought it. Orpheus was real. It was hard to think of him as that when he was more like a construct of two people Nero knew, but the man was sentient, thinking, feeling. For the past weeks, Nero thought about what it would be like if Orpheus just… stayed. For some reason, no one thought they would, that they would eventually go back to being Dante and Vergil - and Nero wanted that, yes, but would that mean that Orpheus himself would cease to exist?

Nero said, “Don’t you miss being Dante and Vergil, though?”

Orpheus hummed. “Not really. It was fun. Being Dante and Vergil was fun when the other was around. Fighting him was always fun.”

Nero waited. “But?”

Orpheus frowned, his eyes unfocused as if seeing something else. He said, “Being Vergil was nice. Powerful, in the end, if a bit… nevermind that. I’m more powerful than Vergil himself can ever be, you know? Hell, I’m the most powerful thing on this side of the galaxy.”

That was laughably predictable.

“Dante though,” he said softly, almost wistfully. “Dante didn’t even like being Dante.”

Nero stared. “Oh,” he said.

Orpheus stood up suddenly, Yamato appearing in his hands sheathed. He said, “Let’s fight.”

Nero blinked. “Now?”

Orpheus raised a brow. “Unless you’re scared.”

Nero scowled. “Oh, it’s on, old man.”

-

Turns out, fighting a half-devil who was also technically a full devil and a full human at the same time was a bad idea. Nero groaned, bruised and busted in a clearing far away from the city as Orpheus’ monstrous Sin Devil Trigger touched down and slowly folded back into itself.

Orpheus’s grin split his face in half as he looked down at Nero. “That was fun.”

Nero groaned. “For you, maybe. Felt like you were about to eat me.”

It was more like a cat playing with prey, really, batting it between its paws leisurely. Still, Nero gave it as good as he got—and, fine, he’ll admit he had a bit of fun—and he wasn’t about to mope at losing to a guy who was both Dante and Vergil.

Orpheus looked distracted by something, his smile more reflexive than anything as he stared off into space. Nero looked in that direction but it seemed Orpheus was just zoning out, lost in thoughts. He did that a lot.

Nero spun on his back, getting his hands beneath himself to kick out and sweep Orpheus’ leg. The man let out a whoop as he fell and Nero equipped the Rawhide gauntlet—in lieu of a Devil Breaker arm—whipping the chains to restrain Orpheus. Orpheus grabbed the chains and let it wrap around his forearm and sink through skin, twisting the rest of his body smoothly out from the trap, but Nero yanked the chain forward and Orpheus had a split second of imbalance that Nero took advantage of to thrust Red Queen through his chest.

Orpheus barked out a laugh, splattering blood over Nero’s face.

“Finally,” Nero panted. “Getting slow in your old age? You must be eighty by now, right?”

Nero said that, but he was also very aware of a partially Triggered claw over his side, one sharp thumb just barely piercing the skin under his lowest rib while the others rested over his ribcage from his back. Orpheus held back with fine control from just tearing out his skeleton. Nero pulled the sword from Orpheus’ chest just as Orpheus let his hand drop to his side, wholly human again. Nero hadn’t even known Orpheus could do that—didn’t even think that Dante and Vergil could before or on their own.

Nero flicked the blood off Red Queen before putting her back on his back with a flourish, checked the barrel of Blue Rose and snapped it shut to smoothly holster it. The Devil Breaker gauntlet was also snugly back on his belt. Nero looked up to see Orpheus watching him with an unreadable expression.

“What?” Nero asked, not self-consciously as much as defensively.

Orpheus stared at him longer. Then, he covered his face with both hands. He said something into them, muffled.

“What now?” Nero repeated, annoyed, but Orpheus just looked back up at him with an expression that can only be described as - giddy.

Then he said, with not a hint of mocking, “You’re so fucking cool, Nero.”

Nero could only stare. Once those words processed, something warm and embarrassing bloomed in his chest and he knew a blush was creeping up his face. “What the hell are you saying, old man?” Nero bit out, defensive in the face of unabashed sincerity.

Orpheus shot towards him and wrapped his arms around him, picking him up off the floor and spinning him around. Nero froze for a whole two seconds before he started struggling, completely red-faced now.

“Let me go!”

“You’re so cool!” Orpheus repeated with a light, giddy laugh. “I have such a cool kid.”

That shorted Nero’s brain out for even longer this time. Long enough that when Orpheus put him back on the ground, Nero didn’t even immediately leap away in embarrassment. He just looked at him.

Then, Orpheus cupped Nero’s face in his hands. His expression was soft, unbearingly so, honesty a weapon that paralysed Nero in place.

“I’m so proud of you,” Orpheus said softly, and Nero - Nero—

Three years. It had been three years since the Qliphoth. Orpheus was not Vergil. He was not Dante.

Dante would not hold him like this. Dante, who held him at arm’s length for five years, who was a masterclass in deflection by himself, who preferred to live life like a joke, whose smile was genuine only a tenth of the times—he would never express an ounce of sincerity like this.

Vergil, as little as Nero knew him, would not have this expression. Vergil, who stole his arm, unrepentant, who Lady cursed with vitriol for the pain he put his own twin through, who killed thousands for an ounce of power, who put Lady and Trish in walking coffins—his eyes would not hold this warmth, this vulnerability. Orpheus had opened his heart to Nero.

The warm and painful tangle of emotions sitting in Nero’s chest suddenly became unbearable and he shoved Orpheus away, turning his face so his expression was not visible. “You’re so embarrassing, old man.”

“You’re just easy to embarrass.”

Nero scoffed, but didn’t respond. When it seemed like Orpheus was willing to let the silence lie, Nero said, “Hey. Orpheus. I was wondering.”

“Hmm.”

“Since you’re - you know - family. And I know Dante already met them, but still - do you want to meet the kids?”

Orpheus beamed.

-

“It’s too convenient isn’t it?”

Nero, distracted by the scene in front of him, turned to look at Lady. “What?”

Orpheus caught Kyle from where he threw the boy high, the kids squealing in delight as they crowded around him for their turn to be tossed around. Nero had noticed that kids loved that, but it seemed Orpheus’ inhumanly high throws and gentle catches captivated them even more.

“I mean,” Lady said, “that it’s convenient that the guy who raised a demon tower and a demon tree with no regards for human life in pursuit of power - that guy suddenly doesn’t need to face the music because he’s, oh, a ‘different person’?” Lady scoffed. “Please.”

Nero pursed his lips. He didn’t think he would ever forgive Vergil in this lifetime, not when those lives are gone forever, not when he put Kyrie through so much pain and fear in their own home. But Orpheus was not Vergil.

He didn’t mention that, though. Said, “I don’t know. He’s pretty good with paying back Dante’s debts isn’t he? And keeping the Devil May Cry running. And his accounts straight. Can’t say Dante was ever good at that—that’s one point for him being an entirely different guy, if I’m being honest.”

Lady frowned. “Dante could be good at it if he actually cared.”

Nero wasn’t one to defend Dante considering, well, the guy was an asshole and a slob all of the time anyway, but this he knew wasn’t true. He said, “You can’t say Dante of all people never cared.”

“That’s not what I - nevermind.” Lady waved it off.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Nero asked.

“Who, the fusion?”

“You ever gonna call him by his name?”

“They can dress it up however they want, but all I see is two grown men playing pretend.”

Nero said, “You should really talk to him.”

Lady side-eyed him. For someone who was a stranger to him up until the Qliphoth, they’d gotten much closer during the cleanup of Redgrave City and the following years. Nero knew exactly what she thought of evil fathers. “You buying their shit?”

“He talks about Dante and Vergil like they’re entirely different people to him.”

Lady didn’t respond at first. Orpheus was now chasing the kids around on the grass. He caught Carlo and pretended to eat him, roaring into his stomach. He was so… open.

Lady said, “You like him a lot, huh.”

Nero sputters, “Well - he’s - it’s not—”

“I get it,” Lady continued. “He’s not the supervillain deadbeat dad and he’s also not the lame uncle who kept you in the dark for five years. He’s the guy that came back.”

Well. There wasn’t much Nero could say in response to that. Because Orpheus did come back. Dante and Vergil didn’t.

Lady sighed. “I just don’t really care for Dante’s evil twin using him to become more powerful.”

It’s like love, Orpheus had said with awe in his voice.

“You think that’s what happened?” Nero asked, brows furrowed.

Lad shrugged. She was always suspicious of Vergil; she came all the way to Fortuna to check him, after all. “Who knows. But if his brother offered a way to never be apart again, Dante would accept in a heartbeat.”

“From what I heard I always thought it was an accident.”

“What, Dante was stabbing Vergil and accidentally stabbed himself in the process?”

Lady paused. The two of them looked at each other for a moment before breaking into quiet laughter. “Yeah,” Nero said. “Sounds like something he would do.”

Orpheus jogged over, holding onto a pair of legs slung over his shoulder. “Did you see Julio come this way?” He turned exaggeratedly and Julio swung around from where he was hanging upside down over his back.

“I know you can hear me, you jerk!” Julio cried out with a wide smile, hitting Orpheus’ back in futile attempts to get free. “I’m getting dizzy!”

“Thought I heard him,” Orpheus said, unfazed. He spun around really quickly as Carlo and Kyle came running up to him and Julio let out another cry at the sudden swinging movement, way too giggly for a young teenager. Nero remembered trying way too hard to be cool at that age.

When Orpheus put Julio down and swept Carlo back up, running off with him as if kidnapping him and sending the other kids chasing to ‘rescue’ their foster brother, Lady said, “I don’t like the way he talked about Dante. As if he wasn’t a whole person.”

“You know, you’re rather defensive of him after all the shittalking the past three years,” Nero pointed out.

“Shut up. I can shittalk Dante all I want. That guy is half Vergil and I resent the implication that Dante needs him to be whole.” Lady paused. “Damn it.”

Nero looked at the face she made, a peculiar twist of her lips like she just tasted something disgusting. There was a realisation there of something. A resignation. “What is it?” Nero asked.

“I don’t even know if I can argue with him,” Lady said. “Especially now he’s actually paying back his debts.”

“You complain to him about it and then you complain when he does what you want?”

“Freaks me is what it does. Well, it used to—but if he has his brother back—” Lady shivered.

“You guys are so strange.”

“Imagine a guy who doesn’t plan for the future starts getting his affairs in order, Nero. You’d assume the worst, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh.”

“Except this time he’s actually got something to live for,” said Lady. “And he’s actually planning for the future instead of just - tying up loose ends.”

“He’s happy,” Nero said. He had the feeling that sometimes, Lady still assigned Dante or Vergil to Orpheus’ actions as if he was just two people alternating between one or the other. Nero couldn’t blame her either, because he slipped up sometimes, and started noting when Orpheus did something not very Dante-like. He did not know Vergil enough to say either way how much like him Orpheus was.

Orpheus fell to the ground as the kids dogpiled him.

“At least there’s that,” Lady said.

-

It’s two months after Orpheus came back from the underworld that Nero finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Will you tell me about Vergil?” 

He hadn’t known how to ask, really, when Orpheus was made up of Vergil himself. It was different from the thought of asking V about Vergil, because V had always been way more human than Orpheus, who walked like he was always on the hunt, his presence like that of a large predator in wait. Thankfully, the alcohol Orpheus had taken from Dante’s stash made Nero bold enough to realise he could have just outright asked in the first place.

“What do you want to know?” Orpheus asked, swirling his own glass around. It was straight vodka, because Orpheus was a freak of nature, while Nero had his with soda—though Nero had already started drinking way before Orpheus even poured himself a glass, so the soda didn’t dilute it much. Nero noted that Orpheus did not say yes to his question.

“What he was like,” Nero said. “Is like. If he knew about me. What he was doing the past few decades. Everything.”

Orpheus studied his face. “Do you want him to be your dad?”

Nero made a face. “He’s my biological dad, isn’t he?”

“But do you want him?”

Nero - didn’t really want to think about it right now. But it was probably best to think about these things not sober anyway.

Nero didn’t know Vergil. Nero hadn’t needed a dad in years, and now it just felt like too little, too late. But Orpheus…

Nero wondered, when - if - Vergil split from Orpheus, would he talk to Nero like this? Open and honest and sincere? Would he play around with his grandkids like Orpheus did? Would he look at Nero like that and tell him he was proud?

What, Nero thought, could he get from Vergil that he wasn’t already getting from Orpheus?

Nero felt guilt immediately at the thought. It was a complicated emotion, and his brain felt fizzed when he looked at Orpheus again, neither Dante or Vergil and yet also both. The book his father left him burned a hole in his nightstand.

“I don’t know,” Nero said. “I think I do.” He did not know how honest that was. Desire was hard to parse.

“He didn’t know about you,” Orpheus said, finally answering the question. “He - well,” he laughed, “he thought you were Dante’s.”

Nero blinked slowly. “ Dante? You - he thought I was Dante’s kid?”

“That’s what I said.”

Nero shook his head. “Dante’s.” He didn’t know why it sounded so ridiculous. Was it such an impossible notion to Vergil for him to have a son? It didn’t help that Nero also, for the longest time, thought Dante was his dad. There had been some resentment there, in how Dante seemed too much of a coward to claim him.

“What else did you ask…” Orpheus tapped on his glass. Nero noticed it was still as full as when he first filled it. “What was Vergil like, yes?”

“Beyond the megalomania.”

Orpheus adopted a wistful smile. “He was a magnificent bastard, that’s for sure.”

“Not sure if that counts as being self-obsessed or not.”

“I guess I technically am self obsessed.” Orpheus leaned back in his chair. “Can’t say much more than that, kid; I love him.”

“Oh,” Nero said. “What…  what are the twins to you, anyway? Parents? - ugh - progenitors?”

“Big word for you.”

“Shut up.”

Orpheus poured more into Nero’s glass and answered, “It’s complicated. They’re me.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I’m not them, no, but they are me.”

“That’s - complicated.”

“I said that, didn’t I?”

“Ugh.” Nero took another drink then grimaced. That was nowhere near diluted enough. “I wish you were my dad instead.”

This time it was Orpheus’ turn to be speechless. “Oh.”

“No offence, Orpheus, but your twins are selfish assholes. They were jumping at the chance to leave us all behind—literally, even. And Dante knew who I was this whole time? Do you know how much it fucked me up that he waited that long to claim a relation to me? Oh sure, he said we were family—once, by the way—but it’s not like he ever followed through on that. Was it that hard to just - not leave me in the dark? What, I wasn’t cool enough for him? Was I always deadweight?”

“It’s not that,” Orpheus finally found the moment to interrupt the rant. “It’s not that he didn’t think you weren’t good enough—”

“Fuck off,” Nero said, throwing back the rest of the way-too-strong liquor before slamming it back down. “I’m not insecure about that. I know I’m fucking awesome, the old man didn’t have to tell me that.”

Orpheus raised his hands defensively.

“Deadweight,” Nero muttered, shaking his head. “I just don’t get why it was so hard for him.”

Orpheus fiddled with his glass. Still not drinking. You can’t understand, he’d said once.

Nero said, “It’s Vergil, isn’t it? Always comes back to him.”

It felt like, in the last three years, Nero had learned more about Dante than he ever did when the man was around. He still knew next to nothing about his father, but it seemed that everything about Dante was about Vergil in the end anyway.

“I think,” Orpheus said, “You’ve had enough to drink.”

“You haven’t had any at all.”

Orpheus took the whole bottle into the bathroom behind the bar and emptied it down the drain of the sink.

Nero said, “Dante’s gonna be mad at you for that.”

“He can take it up with someone else. Vergil, since I won’t be around. He can’t even get drunk on this anyway.”

“I saw him drunk before.” Nero frowned, trying to recall.

“That’s because he used to make moonshine behind the generator. It would have made even you blind, Nero.”

Nero liked the way Orpheus said his name. So unlike Dante and—

“You avoided the rest of my questions about Vergil,” Nero pointed an accusing finger at him.

Orpheus took the rest of the liquor, bottle by bottle, and started draining it, one bottle over the sink, one over the toilet bowl, the others waiting. “Remind me of the question.”

Nero couldn’t remember. He suspected Orpheus could, and was only saying that because he himself knew Nero couldn’t remember. Nero took back everything he said about Orpheus being honest, because he might not have lied a single time but he was just as avoidant as Dante when he wanted to be. Nero groaned in one hand.

“Why,” Nero said, “I guess. Why he needed power that badly. Why he killed thousands of people for it. Yeah - my dad’s a mass murderer, Orpheus. A total prick of a guy. You’d think a guy who found out he missed out on twenty-four years of his son’s life would want to make up for it, but I don’t think he cares that much considering he - oh you know - jumped into hell the moment he found out.”

“Not everything’s about you, Nero. The Qliphoth roots needed destroying and we - they needed to do it.”

“Yeah, yeah, clean up his own mess or whatever. He’s such a prick. A pretentious prick, if V’s anything to go by. You think he’s more pretentious than V? I liked V. Even if he was a lying liar who lies.”

“None of my parts ever lied once, you know.”

Nero thought back on it. He was right only on a technicality. “That’s even worse. You guys are horrible. You know there are words now for all the things that are wrong with you guys right? Doctors for it too.”

“You do realise,” Orpheus said, “That once I split again, Dante and Vergil will remember this conversation, right?”

… Shit, really? Whatever. “Screw you. I’ll say it to their faces as well, I don’t care.”

“I was wondering why you were being so patient. Who knew you only needed a little alcohol to air out the grievances.”

“Didn’t want to put all their shit on you,” Nero said. “It’s not like you asked for all their baggage.”

Orpheus laughed. “Actually, I kinda did. Sure it was an accident—”

“Called it.”

“—but it’s part of being me, entirely and wholly.”

“I still don’t get it,” Nero groaned in complaint.

“Think about it like this. Dante and Vergil did not choose to be born together. They did not choose to be brothers. They did not choose to love each other. They didn’t have a choice but to carry each other, come hell or high water.”

Nero furrowed his brows. “But you did have a choice.” Blood did not have an unbreakable chokehold on people. “Sure, you’re brothers, but Dante was ready to kill him for the - greater good or whatever, wasn’t he? And Dante didn’t have to jump into hell with him. That’s a choice too.”

“Don’t be silly,” Orpheus said with a hard edge to his voice. “If you’ll choose him every time, is it even a choice?”

Nero had no clue what choice Orpheus was referring to. Dante was ready to kill his own twin, Nero had no doubts about that at the very least.

“I think we’re speaking past each other,” Nero said. “You’re still avoiding questions about Vergil.”

“Staying me is a choice,” Orpheus said, still relieving Dante’s liquor stash into the drain. “Love is a choice. I don’t have to be me, but I’m choosing to carry both of them—yes, baggage and all.”

Nero stared at Orpheus, gauging how aware he was. He was contradicting himself. Despite all that Orpheus put a distinction between them, Nero didn’t see any difference between Dante choosing to love his brother and Orpheus choosing to be himself. Was Orpheus himself not just that love made manifest? Or was the experience of his entire existence so fundamentally different that there was a distinction Nero would never fully be able to understand?

“I think I’m getting sober,” Nero said. “And you’re still avoiding talking about Vergil. Why did he do - all that?”

Orpheus’ lips twisted, but he didn’t look at Nero. “You’re not gonna like the answer.”

Nero said, “I think I deserve to know considering he tore out my arm for it.”

And, vice versa, everything about Vergil came back to Dante too in the end.

-

Surprisingly, Lady warmed up to Orpheus. Nero thought it was never going to happen, but he and Nico walked in on Orpheus, Trish, and Lady playing pool at the Devil May Cry.

“You guys are getting along,” he remarked.

Trish said, “Orpheus owes me one of his jobs.”

Orpheus huffed. “You were the one who invited me for it.”

“It’s etiquette,” Trish smiled faux-demurely, “to leave half the fun for the other person. Preferably most of it.”

“That’s what you get for inviting the demon-hog along,” Lady snarked. “I don’t think they’d know restraint if it climbed up their ass and gave them a prostate orgasm.”

“Ugh,” Nero grimaced. “I do not need that image in my head, Lady.”

She shrugged.

Orpheus said, “It’s not my fault every single hunt is a bore.”

“It kind of is,” Trish said, looking him up and down. Nero understood. Any hunt with more than one of them was already too easy, but with Orpheus? He was a walking cataclysm. Nero only had one hunt with him in the past five months since he’d jumped out of a hellgate, and it went so smoothly that it left an unsatisfied taste in his mouth and a glum-looking Orpheus a little too bloodthirsty.

“Uh, hey Lady,” Nico said, dangling her large case with her. “Got your specs.”

Lady’s eyes lit up and she skipped down a step to pester Nico for the parts she commissioned.

“Gettin’ cosy with the girls, Orpheus?” Nero asked, joining them at the pool table, but it seemed they were setting the cues down for the interruption.

“Simply scraping them of all their earnings, Nero,” Orpheus smirked, taking up his drink bottle. Tomato juice, he noted.

“You wish,” Trish drawled. “Dante’s luck is not carrying over, my dear.”

“Not luck,” Orpheus said, “skill. And trust in my body. The experience of wielding the Yamato won’t ever escape me no matter how long it’s been or who I am, and a cue is no match for that.”

“You’ll find it’s an entirely different battle.”

“I also have thirty years of knowing Ivory and Ebony in my hands too, my dear. Angles are no daunting foe at all.”

“Okay,” Nero said, just to cut through the intensely competitive atmosphere and the weirdly eloquent taunting. “We were just in the area for Nico to drop off Lady’s stuff, then we’ll be gone.”

“Sit,” Orpheus gestured to the couch. “They’ll probably be a while.”

A quick glance showed that, yes, Lady was attaching and reattaching every part she commissioned to the Kalina Ann II that Orpheus returned, and Nero knew there was a whole load of ammo she hadn’t yet examined. Nero accepted.

“So,” he started, “you hitting a slump on the devil hunting?”

Orpheus groaned. “I forgot how endlessly dull it was. If I knew I was just going to be fighting the run-of-the-mill demons I would’ve cleared out the entire underworld before returning.

Nero’s heart jumped in fear. “How long would that have taken?” Nero said, trying to play it calm. Trish eyed him, leaning against the pool table.

Orpheus shrugged. “Couple years, who knows. Maybe I would’ve played around like Urizen did and created something just for me to fight. Man, do I want to fight Urizen like this.”

Nero’s right fist tightened. “Considering Dante beat him, wouldn't it have been easy for you?”

Orpheus fell back into the couch beside Nero, bouncing him up slightly. He said, “Yeah. But I would’ve had fun at least. Dante didn’t have fun.”

The stakes had been high and personal, then. It took a long time, but Nero did, in those three years they were gone, realise that Dante never planned on coming back—if the deed was anything to go by.

Nero cleared his throat, forcing his attention elsewhere, catching on the shelf Orpheus had installed months ago, now filled up with all kinds of books. He said, “Considering how obsessed V was with Blake, I would’ve expected more of him.”

“Because it was the only book he had,” Orpheus said. “Besides, he’s a poet. I just need his poetry collection on the shelf—it’s not like there’s that many of them.”

“Who are the rest of these oldies, then?”

“Romantic poets, mostly.”

“Romance?” Nero shot him a look. “Never took you as someone who’d like that stuff.”

“Romantic Era poetry, child,” Orpheus rolled his eyes, while Nero bristled at the nickname.

“I’m nearly thirty, old man.”

“And I’m barely two years old,” Orpheus retorted. “Burns, Coleridge—though I do prefer Wordsworth, of the three. And, of course, Shelley, Byron, Keats, their contemporaries and more—Pushkin, Dickinson—”

“Okay, okay, I don’t know any of those people,” Nero interrupted with a raised hand. Except Dickinson, he knew Dickinson.

“Not a poet, Nero?” Trish asked teasingly.

“I’ve only read Blake,” he confessed.

“Speaking of,” Orpheus said, “where is that book Vergil gave you?”

“Home,” Nero said immediately. “Waiting to give it to my dad.”

Silence. Interrupted only by Lady and Nico speaking on the other side of the office.

Nero’s eyes roved over the names on the shelf. Orpheus loved the classics, it seemed, from the ones Nero did recognise. Hugo, Shakespeare, Dumas, Milton, Dante—

“Hey!” he pointed with a small laugh. “You have Dante and Virgil on your shelf.”

Orpheus said, “It’s a good read regardless.”

“They were Dante’s,” Trish said.

“Huh.” Nero tilted his head at the whole shelf. “Never seen Dante with anything other than his - you know - magazines. I’ve never read them though.”

“Funnily enough,” Trish continued, “The Inferno is about Dante the poet going to hell with Vergil—also the poet—guiding him through.”

Nero snorted. “Damn. You read, Trish?”

Trish said, “I read this one only for the namesake. Believe it or not it was not a particularly riveting read, despite what he claims.”

Orpheus said, in the cadence that told them he was reciting:

“Midway upon the journey of our life

   I found myself within a forest dark,

   For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

“Well,” Nero said, “if there were any doubts about V being a part of you…”

Trish had a knowing smile on her face. “And which one of them memorised that one?”

Orpheus matched her smile, resting his chin on his fist. “Vergil, actually.”

“And when did he have time, in the last twenty-odd years, to memorise that?”

He rolled his eyes. “He would not forget, in any number of years. And I’ve read it since.”

“You know,” Nero said, “Vergil’s kind of a softie, isn’t he?”

“No he isn’t!” Lady shouted from the other end of the room. “I’ve met his human half. He’s not a softie; just pathetic.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Orpheus said.

Trish said, “The both of you have enough of a complex about each other to do this.” She gestured vaguely at the whole of them. Orpheus chuffed.

“About the payment,” Nico started, but Lady was already waving it off, saying she’d already wired it to her that morning. That was their que to leave, and Nero pushed himself up.

“Ah,” Orpheus followed him as he made his way to the door, “When will you be back, do you think?”

“We got no jobs lined up,” Nero told him. “It’s been a week though, so I’ll probably stick around with Kyrie and the kids for a lot longer and try to avoid accepting mainland jobs. I’ll come if needed, but I’m sure you’d prefer the bulk of the jobs to yourself.”

Orpheus made a face. Nero narrowed his eyes, stopping just outside the shop, the neon glow lighting them both from the top.

“What?” Nero asked as the door shut behind Orpheus.

Orpheus shook his head, smiling. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

Nero, unprepared for that Orpheus-brand of sincerity again, could only feel his face flushing. “You’re so - how can you say that with a straight face?”

“Well, you need to hear it right now.”

Nero scowled, hiding his face in one hand. “I know you think I’m some insecure kid who just wants paternal attention—”

“Oh, so you’re aware?”

“Shut up,” Nero said, but he couldn’t help laughing either, and Orpheus joined with quiet chuckles. “I don’t think anyone is used to that kind of - well.”

“I know, I know, human affection must be kept close to your chest lest you die of bleeding your heart out.”

Nero shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah. I know.”

“I’ll…” Orpheus hesitated, for a reason Nero would not know for a long time yet. “I’ll see you again, Nero.”

Nero raised a brow. “Of course.”

Nico burst through, nearly running into Orpheus. “Oh! Hey - uh - Orpheus.” She blinked up at him. “Damn. I cannot get over how tall you are.”

“Nico,” Orpheus greeted with a quirk of his lips and a nod.

Nico ducked her head down. “Okay. Yeah. You don’t even have yer guns and yer so fucking badass.”

Orpheus knocked against his chest. “Yamato and Dante are right here, you know. I’m never unarmed.”

“Yeah,” Nico said again. She checked him out. Straight up, no subtlety. Nero groaned. He was old enough to be her father. She said, “See ya, big man.”

Orpheus waved them off as they drove away. Nero looked back with a frown.

-

It ended in the most Dante and Vergil fashion, of course.

“How long have they…” Nero trailed off.

“A day and then some,” Trish said with a shrug, unbothered. There was a picnic on the ground where the woman Nero had learned in the last few years was called Patty was folding a sandwich. She handed the finished product off to a distracted Lady, who thanked her.

In the distance, someone was thrown into the side of a mountain. A dangerous rockslide started at the impact. The boulders rather exploded in random directions instead of letting gravity pull it down as normal as that person burst from the rubble in Devil Trigger. Another Devil Trigger promptly tackled the former into the rocks again. Nero heard an abyssal roar as the two figures brawled down the side of the mountain, scorching everything in its path

“Should we stop them?” Nero asked, not sure if he should be worried or not. The girls here seemed unperturbed.

Trish said, “Let them tire themselves out. But if it takes until sunset again, you can go knock their heads together.”

“I’m camping here so I can kick Dante’s butt for missing four birthdays,” Patty Lowell said with a sniff. “Four!”

Nero watched for a long minute as the two fighters in the distance threw each other around. He said, “Orpheus is gone, then.”

Lady glanced at him. Her face softened, somewhat. “Yeah,” she said. “At least you got your idiots back.”

Nero said, “They’re your idiots too.”

Lady scoffed. “Like I said, the evil twin can kiss my ass.”

Nero looked at the battle from afar. “Why did they split?”

“They were bored,” Trish told him. “Apparently there was nothing as fun as fighting each other, he said, so he split himself down the middle with the Yamato in the middle of a job and started fighting.”

Lady said, “They just missed each other.”

Nero sighed. He watched the two battling half-devils in the sky.

“Might want to move back a bit, Patty,” he said. Patty looked at him strangely, but dutifully dragged her picnic back with Lady. A moment later, Dante came crashing into the grass where they had just been, sending dirt flying as his face got smashed into the ground. He rolled to the side just as Vergil landed in the same spot—would’ve crushed his brother had he not moved—Yamato poised.

“It’s even,” Vergil said. Nero realised he did not recall Vergil’s voice right until this moment.

“That’s not a point,” Dante argued. His face was streaked in dirt and blood, and his hair was pink-tinged from it too.

“You fell to the ground. That’s a point.”

“You couldn’t have gotten me from that, so it’s technically not a point.”

Vergil scowled. Nero had never seen that expression on Orpheus’ face before. “That’s not what you argued twelve points ago.”

“I could’ve followed up then, but I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t follow up because you were too tired. Ergo, you couldn’t have gotten me. If that point didn’t count, then I’m up one.”

“Hey! If that point didn’t count then this one doesn’t either. So we’re even.”

“You were the one arguing you’re up—”

Vergil didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence because Nero’s fist hurtled into his face and sent him flying.

Dante whistled. Nero turned a glare on him, but the man just took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. “Hey,” he said, “you already got me with the bitchslap.”

“Which you returned, by the way,” Nero said.

“So we’re even,” Dante said, much less tauntingly than arguing over points with his brother.

Vergil walked back. His nose was healed, but a streak of blood showed where he tried to wipe it off his chin. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Dante goggled at him. “You did not just admit that.”

“If that was for the bitchslap,” Nero said through gritted teeth. “Then I need another one for the arm.”

“Whoo!” Lady cheered from the side. “Get them, Nero!”

“Hey,” Dante turned to the girls. Patty was currently storming up to him. “You’re supposed to be on my side—”

Patty kicked his shins. Dante pretended it hurt, bending over his leg and hopping.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a stupid idiot! Jerkwad!” Patty yelled. “I’m already starting my last year of university, you know that?”

Dante’s eyes widened. “Oh, Patty—”

She tackled him around the middle in a hug. He put a hand on her head and looked up just in time to be alarmed when Trish and Lady jumped on him as well. He cried out as he fell back onto the grass, piled by his girls. Nero looked at Vergil.

The man grunted softly as he turned away from the display. Nero said, “You know, Orpheus was kind of a sap like that too.”

Vergil grimaced. “Yes. He was… remarkably honest.”

“So,” Nero continued on, because he was kind of done with giving the man who fathered him any more time than he already had to prepare for this conversation, “What are you going to do now?”

Vergil did not clear his throat, but it very much looked like he wanted to just to clear the awkward air. He said, “I believe Orpheus arranged a means of livelihood for us.”

“Did he plan to split again?”

Vergil did not look at Nero, instead back at Dante, who was finally sitting up and talking to the girls. He did his apologies sheepishly, with a smile that he thought was so endearing. Nero had to roll his eyes at it.

Vergil said, “I’m afraid it was none of Dante’s influence that Orpheus planned for every possibility.”

Nero huffed a laugh at the jab. Nero thought Vergil was smiling too, because he recognised the subtle curve of his lips when he was making fun of someone. It stopped him short for a moment to wonder how much of his father he already knew through Orpheus. Vergil continued.

“I still need to stick around. To settle my bouts with Dante, of course.”

“Of course,” Nero repeated with a raised brow.

“Neither of us have gotten past a three point lead; Dante keeps arguing down my victories.”

And you let him? Nero looked at him incredulously.

Vergil paused. “And we had another promised bout, didn’t we?”

Nero grinned. “That we do. The ones with Orpheus didn’t count.”

“Of course,” Vergil said as if it was obvious. “Orpheus was more god than demi-god anyway—two halves human, two halves devil—it would be inaccurate to attribute his strengths to my own.”

Lady was now interrupting Dante’s apologies with repeated knocks against his head. She wasn’t using a pistol to do it, saying a lot about how much her anger had calmed down in Orpheus’ presence in the past half a year.

Nero said, “You know I have questions.”

“Yes,” Vergil said, resigned.

“Will I ever meet Orpheus again?”

Vergil didn’t answer for a moment. Nero’s lips tightened to a thin line. Vergil said, “Not for a long time, likely, if ever.”

“I thought you liked being him.”

Vergil’s expression didn’t change much save for a minute curl of his lips downward. “He liked being him. But Orpheus would not see any reason to split again, even if each of us meant to prior. I will not miss any more—” he stopped.

He didn’t look like he was going to start again. Nero wondered how much of his life he spent as someone else.

Nero breathed out. He felt that well of grief in his bottom rib again. Why was it that when he finally got that connection he’d always wanted, it was ripped away from him again?

He loved Orpheus, he realised. In the short months he’d known him, Nero cared about him so much it hurt. Orpheus felt like home. Like he was back with Kyrie and the kids. Like Credo was right beside him again. And now Orpheus was gone. On a whim, because he was bored.

“Okay,” Nero said, swallowing through the grief.

“Man!” Dante exclaimed, on his feet again and stretching. “I missed a good workout. Where were we again?”

“Even,” Vergil said.

“So we countin’ them or not countin’ them?”

Vergil rolled his eyes. “It equates and evens out. Weren’t you the one who insisted on doing all our maths sheets when we were young, little brother?”

“It’s about the principle, brother.” Dante crossed his arms. “If we establish the rules now, we won’t argue the next time it happens.”

“Please,” Vergil scoffed, “as if you won’t change those rules anyway if it benefited you. Maybe being a corporate lawyer would suit you better than being a devil hunter.”

“Ladies, you’re both pretty,” Trish said.

“Yeah, they have the same face,” Patty added.

“You’re just being petty,” Dante continued arguing anyway.

Vergil said, “I’m not being petty. I’m recording this to memory so next time I can repeat exactly what you said verbatim and call out your hypocrisy, little brother.”

“Isn’t that my job? Annoying little brother who changes the rules? You can be the stuck up big bro and nitpick the rules then.”

“The role of the eldest,” Vergil said, “is to be correct.”

“If you say so, brother.” Dante rolled his eyes.

They liked saying that word. Brother. They seemed to add it in whenever they could, a point of pride or perhaps a desperation. Or maybe, just to relish being able to say it again.

Orpheus didn’t have anyone to call a brother.

“Well, that’s done,” Trish said, already walking away.

“Thank dear old pops.”

Vergil narrowed his eyes. “Yes. I don’t know anyone who would willingly spend every second of every day with your inane thoughts, brother.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t either, but I don’t got a choice, do I?” Dante pointed at him. “And being stuck with a stick up my ass for that long was not my idea of a vacation either.”

These Idiots. Nero didn’t know who they were fooling considering they’ve all met Orpheus and his ease of love.

“You guys are children,” Lady said. “Come on, we’ve been out here for way too long. I need a shower.”

“Oh, blessed shower!” Dante cried out, bounding ahead after Trish. “And pizza!”

“Without olives,” Nero muttered. “The world can finally turn back to normal.”

“You know,” Patty said as Lady jogged to keep up with Dante. “Dante doesn’t actually hate olives.”

Nero blinked. “You’re shitting me.”

“He’s not a big fan but he'll eat them,” Patty continued with a shrug. “I don’t like olives so he doesn’t pick them out for me, but if you like olives he’ll do it for you.”

“Huh,” Nero said, for lack of anything else to say. Then Vergil spoke up.

“He always added them to my plate when we were young.”

Both Nero and Patty looked at Vergil, surprised he was speaking up.

“He kept the habit, then,” Vergil noted softly, distantly.

“Hey slowpokes!” Dante yelled from the treeline. “You guys coming, or what?”

Patty raced ahead, yelling, “You’re the one who’s years late, asshole!”

In the wake of that, Nero waited for her to get out of earshot before he asked, “Is it true what he said—about you two being half a soul?”

Vergil frowned. “He was much too quick to identify a soul.”

Something relieved the tension in Nero’s shoulders. They both started following the others at a much more leisurely pace. “So you and Dante are whole people on your own, right?”

“Of course,” Vergil snapped quickly, offended. “Orpheus simply felt—” he stopped. Dropped the sentence. “As the Romantic poets believed, the soul is not immutable. It is why Sparda’s power and soul remain in the artefacts he left behind.”

That interested him. “Really?”

Vergil nodded. “It is why the Yamato holds so much of my soul for a Devil Arm. It is why Dante’s Devil Sword is just as much a part of him.”

“Wait, did I have your soul in my arm.”

Vergil didn’t respond to that. He said, “Regardless, it is the unique nature of our souls that make complete synthesis possible in the first place.” That didn’t particularly answer any questions either, with how vague it was. “Orpheus was still us. A different identity, maybe, but still entirely our being.”

He was making a point somewhere there, Nero thought. “... And?”

“Orpheus was not a liar,” Vergil said. He was still not looking at Nero.

Then it clicked with him. You know I’m proud of you right? 

Vergil must have sensed his realisation, because he quickly, but somehow unhurriedly, moved away from it, “It is unlikely Orpheus will return. In that form, there’s not much that can sate Dante’s bloodthirst.”

Oh, so it’s Dante’s bloodthirst now, was it?

“Cool,” Nero said. “I’ll miss him, but you guys will do.”

“How enthusiastic.”

“And I promised you another ass-kicking, didn’t I?”

Vergil looked at him, finally, a fire in his eyes. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, now.”

Nero smirked. Vergil matched it, a flash of an expression, before walking off, strides long and steady. Nero followed.

He would realise, a minute later, that talking to Vergil did not feel like talking to a stranger. He had been doing it for a long time now.

It felt like talking to Orpheus.